


Best Served With Gnomes

by Feneris



Category: Gravity Falls, Transcendence AU - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Gen, Gnomes, Hank and his Supernatural Mafia, Jerks, Raves, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:10:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5696233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feneris/pseuds/Feneris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is generally considered very unwise to claim you're good friends with the local mob boss, especially when, in truth, you have never met said mob boss before in your life. As one local idiot would find out, it was an even worse idea to make such a claim straight to said mob boss's face. No matter how unintentionally. </p><p>Hank for his part would learn that wild destructive parties were fun to plan, when it wasn't going to be your house that was trashed. That getting in contact with every gnome troop in Oregon was easier than one would first assume. And that in matters of revenge, sometimes simply killing someone, was simply not enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Served With Gnomes

With the benefit of hindsight, it was plain enough to see that the whole incident, which had resulted a street being blocked off for over twelve hours and caused property damage well into the six figure sums, had all started out over spilled coffee. 

More specifically, it started with Shawn and his best friend Steven going out for coffee and deciding to try out a new place. While the place had been packed, everything would still had gone alright, if an Asian woman hadn't tripped on a chair-leg and accidentally spilled her coffee all over Steve's front.

It had been a complete accident, even Steve should have been able to see that. The woman had even been going for the paper napkins to help clean up the mess on his shirt. Except that Steve had completely blown his top. 

Steve was the kind of friend who had been your friend for so long, you were often willing to overlook certain significant character flaws, which in other people you might not have otherwise tolerated. For Steve, it was the fact that he could sometimes have a hair-trigger temper, and the fact that when he got mad his ego overrode any shred of restraint or common sense he may have had. 

Shawn had tried to calm his friend down, but short of shooting Steve with a sleep dart, there hadn't been much he could actually do except watch Steve rip into the poor woman. The word "bitch" had gotten thrown around a few times along with other, even less savory, words. To her credit, the woman had actually stood her ground and refused to be cowed by Steve screaming at her. Then the woman's fiance, a tall red-haired man, had finally managed to work his way out of the crowd and come to her aid. (Not that she really needed it in Shawn's opinion.) 

The man had tried to be reasonable, but for some strange instinctive reason Steve had taken his presence as some kind of challenge to his masculinity. Shawn had no idea why that would be, but it was probably some deep buried mammalian instinct. Probably the same instinct that saw two elephant seals beat the hell out of each other over a stretch of gravel beach. 

It was an apt comparison, because Steve had immediately tried to puff himself up by playing on his nonexistent reputation. When the man had openly admitted he had no idea who Steve was (no surprise there), Steve had switched to a different tactic. More specifically, by dropping the names of people he didn't actually know. 

Shawn had watched in horror, as Steve claimed to be "in tight" with Don Pines. Even better, he went on to claim that they were great friends and that the Don would be very upset to hear that someone had been harassing his friend. 

The red-haired man got this really weird expression on his face then. Shawn couldn't pin point exactly what it was. It wasn't disbelief, and it certainly wasn't intimidation. 

"Oh really?" was all he said. 

Steve, taking the response to mean that his plan was working, had then gone on to describe how Don Pines would "fuck them up" and how he wasn't someone you screwed around with. 

If the man had been intimidated, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he had turned around, took his fiance's hand, and walked out of the coffee shop without a word. Leaving Steve sputtering in disbelief. 

Steve would later claim his plan worked perfectly. Shawn privately thought that the red-haired man had realized that Steve was an idiot and had decided he wasn't worth their time.

They were both wrong. 

\---

"Don Pines Steve, really!?" Shawn raged as both him and Steve climbed into the car after being kicked out of the coffee shop. "Of all the people you could pretend to know, you chose Don Pines! Do you have any idea how utterly idiotic that was!?" 

Steve made an annoyed grumble in response as he buckled his seat-belt. 

"You don't know the man! You've never even seen him! You probably wouldn't recognize him if he was standing right in front of you!" 

"Well it worked didn't it?" Steve shot back as Shawn pulled out of the parking lot. 

Shawn took a long deep breath, and relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "Maybe," he conceded. "But seriously dude, it's a bad idea to go around saying you know mob bosses, when in fact you don't. Heck it's even a bad idea to do that even if you do know them. What if there had been someone there who actually knew Don Pines?"

Steve muttered something that sounded like "Why would he care?" 

"Do you honestly think someone like Don Pines would tolerate every local idiot going around claiming to be his friend and trying to use his name to get pull? That would destroy his reputation." Shawn explained. "I'm serious man. You better hope Don Pines doesn't find out about this, because he might try to make an example of you so other idiots don't think they can get away with it as well." He took a deep breath. "You're my friend man. I don't want to see you at the bottom of the lake with the kelpies feasting on your liver."

"You really think..."

"Yes." Shawn answered at once. "I'm begging you. Don't try something like that again. Getting involved with mob bosses never goes well, even if you are just dropping names. Forget Don Pines what if a rival mob boss heard you? Like that one who got his head slammed in his car door by Don Pines. And god forbid they actually believed you? They might try to knock you off just for a chance to get back at Don Pines. Did you even think about that?"

Steve's shoulders stiffened, a clear an answer as any that, no, he hadn't thought of that. "Fine," he relented. "I won't try and namedrop Don Pines, or any other member of a criminal organization!" He added, seeing the look on Shawn's face. 

"Good," Shawn replied, actually looking quiet relieved. "Hopefully this will be last we hear about this incident."

It wasn't

\---  
It'd been barely five days after the incident at the coffee shop, when Steve heard what sounded like some trying to break down his door with a sledgehammer. Thankfully, wasn't actually someone trying to break in, just someone very large and very heavy knocking on his door. 

When Steve opened door, he came face to stomach with over two tons of troll encased in a business suit. 

"Message from Mr. Pines," the troll grunted out, passing over a sheet of paper. 

A little sliver of terror slid through Steve as he took the sheet of paper and glanced down at the words written on it.

_To my good friend Steve._

_It was a lovely surprise to find out that you were living here in Portland. Funny how you are such a good friend of mine, yet I didn't remember you until you ran into my fiance and me in the lineup at Mystic Beans. As I recall you had quiet a number of things to say to her when you met._

There's sometimes comes a point when you suddenly realize that you are completely fucked. And not only is the whole mess your own damn fault, it is now far, far too late to fix anything. 

For Steve, that feeling took the form of two very critical revelations. One, that he had called Don Pine's fiance a bitch, among other things, and two, that Don Pines knew where he lived. 

He cast a panicked glance up at the troll. The frantic part of his mind was calculating the odds of him being able to run for the jackhammer in his garage before before the troll could stomp on his knees. While the resigned part of his mind was wondering whether or not they planned to kill him during the beating or as a separate event afterwards. 

But the troll was already heading back down the front walk towards a large flat-bed truck parked at the curb. Instead a large charter bus was pulling up to his driveway. A charter bus containing a lot of passengers wearing pointed hats. 

Steve glanced down at the note, noticing that there was more written on it.

_Since you are apparently such a good friend of mine. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. It seems that I have guests coming, and they want to have a good time while they are in Portland. I certainly hope you will be a gracious host for them all, and make sure nothing spoils their enjoyment of tonight._

_You have thirty minutes before the next thirty thousand arrive._

_Next time it will be harpies._

_Sincerely, your good friend, Don Pines_

Gnomes were pouring out of the bus. Thousands of them. His lawn was awash in a sea of pointy hats.

"Hey!" One of the gnomes yelled from his place at the top of Steve's birdbath. "Where the honeys at!?"

\---

It was finally over. The last of the gnomes had just gotten on their bus and driven off. A grand total of seven large charter buses had pulled up to his house in the course of the night. Each one had been stuffed to windows with gnomes. 

Tiny beer cans crunched under his feet as he surveyed the damage. Pointy hats littered the floor, interspersed with rainbow-colored vomit stains. Several windows had been broken, and bits of asphalt shingles littered his yard from when the gnomes decided to literally "raise the roof." Burn marks decorated his living room carpet from when one of the gnomes had brought in some kind of creature that was a cross between a pig and a goat, and they had set one of his couches on fire in order to roast it. 

His kitchen had arguably suffered the worst. The gnomes had literally ate every scrap of food they could find, and when it had become apparent that Steve was out of food, they had eaten his fridge as well. 

He had briefly considered calling the cops as he watched over a dozen gnomes swing on his light fixtures. However someone apparently beat him to it.

A police officer had shown up at his door at two in the morning to tell him that if the party wasn't over in an half-an-hour he would be fined for disturbing the peace. The look on her face had said clearly enough what she thought his odds were in accomplishing that feat. 

"Dude!" Shawn's head poked in through one of the holes in the wall. "What the hell happened last night? It looked like every gnome in Oregon was having a rave here. I tried to stop by but the gnomes were blocking the street and... why is there water welling up from your basement steps?" 

"When the gnomes found out I didn't have a pool, they decided to make one," Steve answered numbly. 

"So they flooded your basement?" Shawn carefully made his way over to Steve, more tiny beer cans crunching under his feet. "Dude, what the hell is going on? Why did every gnome in Oregon decide to crash a party at your place?" 

Steve wordless handed over the note the troll had delivered to him yesterday evening. Shawn's eyes went wide as he read it over.

"You're lucky to be alive Steve," he said at last. "You got to admit thought," he added, looking up to survey the damage, "the man has style. Not many people would think to use gnomes as deniable weapons of mass destruction." 

Steve let out a groan and buried his face in his hands. 

"Look on the bright side." Shawn said, patting his friends back comfortingly.

"What bright side?"

"Well, number one, you're not dead. Two, you've always wanted a Ferrari."

"Not crashed through my front door!"

"Three, you're not dead. Four, you were telling me yesterday that you were seriously considering taking that wall out, and five, you're not dead." 

"Nice to know there is so much in life to look forward too," Steve muttered. "How hell I am I going to pay for all this!?" 

"Well you know, I've been think of expanding my business." Shawn sat down, throwing an arm over his friend's shoulder. "And I light of what you've just gone through, I think I could use your help doing a customer endorsement. I'll pay you for your time and effort of course." A wide grin split his face. "I'm starting to get the feeling that mafia insurance might sell well in this town. Don't you agree?"


End file.
